


TDY with Tony: The Travelling is for the Birds remix

by SunnyD_lite



Category: NCIS
Genre: Community: remix_redux, Gen, M/M, OFC - Freeform, OMC - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-23
Updated: 2011-04-23
Packaged: 2017-10-18 13:16:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/189255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunnyD_lite/pseuds/SunnyD_lite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A map is not the territory, the report is not the whole reality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	TDY with Tony: The Travelling is for the Birds remix

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chicklet_Girl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chicklet_Girl/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Hit the Road to Dreamland](https://archiveofourown.org/works/158167) by [Chicklet_Girl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chicklet_Girl/pseuds/Chicklet_Girl). 



> Thanks to my amazing beta Spiralleds! She not only held my hand (and at times my brains from smoozing out)but prompted better and better ideas.

_"After researching family and financials, it was ascertained that Johnson had headed to his childhood home in Saint Louis, Missouri. On Friday, April 16th, 2010, Agents DiNozzo and McGee were tasked with following up the lead."_

It was a simple case. One where they knew what had happened. Which, as a writer of thrillers, was a usual feeling. Just not one he applied to his job often.

There was the bad guy and the dupe. But without the dupe, they'd have a harder time making the case against the bad guy.

"SitRep," barked Gibbs as he cornered the bullpen with a cup of coffee in his hand.

McGee suppressed his urge to jump as Tony leapt to his feet. Was that why Tony always stood up? To cover the jolt in another way? It didn't matter, being on MCRT meant a steady stream of adrenaline in his system, even when he avoided getting into cars with Gibbs.

Tony had already pulled up a photo of Johnson on the plasma. "Johnson – lived alone with his computers. No girlfriend that we could find. No W.O.W., that's World of Warcraft, boss."

"I know what WOW is, DiNozzo."

"Well no on-line posse."

"Guild," McGee couldn't stop himself from correcting.

"Whatever, Elf Lord."

The grin sent his way told McGee in neon lights that he'd been set up. Not that he minded, not any more. He stepped forward. "Financials show a series of ATM withdrawals just skirting the daily maximum for a week before this blew up."

"So either he just started an expensive illicit habit or—" Tony joked

"He saw blood in the waters and was planning his get away," Gibbs finished.

Tim continued. "His car is still in the apartment parking lot, and there's been no activity on his credit card."

"Card?" Tony inquired.

"Yes, Tony, some people survive with only one card."

"But no business account?" Tony was fiddling with the remote. "He was a free lancer. The first rule is to keep personal and business expenses separate. Didn't you find invoices from JCS? Was there a card in that name?"

McGee glared at him. How could Tony still make him feel like a probie? He slipped behind his computer.

Ziva stepped up to the plasma. "No siblings or family nearby. There is a mother in St. Louie."

"It's Saint Louis."

"But that's the song."

McGee used their bickering as cover as he searched for a business account. "There was an Amtrak ticket to St. Louis," he said, only slightly stressing the usual pronunciation.

"DiNozzo. McGee."

"Off to see the Mom, right Boss!" Tony snapped. "Road trip. McGee, bring the snacks!"

Tim bit back a groan and sent a text to his sister. Looked like they'd have to postpone family dinner, again. Just when he'd pulled ahead of her on Mass Effects 2.

 _After flying to St. Louis, the Agents were met by local NCIS agent Carin Sweet with local vehicle._

Of course it didn't make sense to drive the almost 900 miles, so they actually caught a flight, well two flights, to St. Louis, giving the local NCIS office a heads up before their arrival. This meant that as they exited with their carry-ons, there was a young lady fiddling with an iPhone; beside her sat a Starbucks' paper cup.

"NCIS?" she asked as they approached her. She pocketed her phone, but didn't offer a handshake.

She was wearing a navy suit with a skirt that showed a lot of thigh. Tim knew he'd been with Gibbs' team too long when his first thought was, "How can she run in that?" He was about to introduce them when Tony spoke up.

"Special Agents DiNozzo and McGee, thanks for meeting us." Tony gave a quick smile. "I hope the delay at least means we missed rush hour."

The brunette straightened up and gave Tony a warm smile. "Agent Carin Sweet, and we should be okay."

Tim waited for the "and yes you are" or other cheesy line from Tony. It didn't come.

"That's great; we don't want to disturb the family too late." Tony gestured for her to lead the way and in a moment they were in front of a vehicle identical to the fleet at the Navy Yard. Tim wondered if there was a discount when you bought so many identical cars. "Shotgun," slipped out before he could stop himself.

They both turned and gave him a look. "Since we'll be dropping Agent Sweet back at the NCIS offices, it makes more sense for her to navigate."

She dropped the eyebrow she had raised and answered Tony, "I can show you the local short cuts."

Alarm bells went off in Tim's brains. Gibbs' version of short cuts tended to lead to car damage. Plus the way she was looking at Tony, Tim had a feeling she might just make it a long cut.

Tim suddenly realized that Tony was holding the truck open, waiting for him to put his overnighter bag in. He didn't know when it stopped seeming strange to have a go-to bag as part of his work equipment. He just wanted them to wrap this up quickly. He dumped the duffle, closed the lid and went to the passenger siderear door. Hopefully Agent Sweet would move the seat forward, as he always felt cramped after a plane ride. He didn't bother fighting Tony for the wheel. "Does it have GPS? We've got the address but..."

But she was too busy telling DiNozzo about some great barbecue spots and Tim couldn't be bothered to talk over her. He settled back, and watched as Tony seemed oblivious to the young agent's coy comments about some things being better if messy.

"Left here?" was all Tony said as he pulled in front of a standard office building. Hey, when had they gotten off the highway? Tim shook his head and tried to calculate when he'd last slept and how many minutes that might have entailed. He glanced at his smart phone. Nineteen hundred, which meant twenty hundred Eastern time, which meant the four am walk up call was sixteen hours ago, and he'd been up to one am writing. No wonder he was tired.

The agent lingered a moment, but the honking behind them finally encouraged her to leave. Tim struggled to switch seats, and noticed that Tony had let the other agent's card drop to the mud mat at Tim's feet.

 _The agents then proceeded to the residence of Mrs. Johnson at Grace Avenue in Holly Hills neighbourhood of St Louis. After an interview with Mrs. Johnson, she advised that the suspect was headed to Memphis, Tennessee._

"So the family home isn't far from here. Let's finish that then grab some grub. Since we're in Saint Louis, I'm thinking ribs."

Tim's stomach protested. Loudly.

"Work before pleasure, McGrumble," Tony said. But he reached into an inside pocket and pulled out a power bar. "Here, can't have you scaring off the witness to the witness accidentally."

"But Gibbs' glare—"

"Is always on purpose. An interview is something you have to control."

Tim rolled his eyes. But he was surprised when they pulled up and Tony said, "McGee, why don't you take lead? I'll just look around."

"Me?" Damn. He'd done interviews before. Why did he always assume secondary?

"Yes, McAgent, you found the Amtrak ticket. This should be a soft lob, so take lead." He opened the car door and got out without waiting for Tim to move.

Scrambling, Tim exited the car and straightened his jacket as much as he could. He was hungry and tired but he could still look professional. Tony was looking like he'd just walked into the office as he waited by the front door. Tim noticed that the small two-story house was well kept and that there were some tulips poking through the ground.

Tony tapped his foot, but maintained a calm facade. "Any time, Timmy."

With a shake, he pulled himself together. This should be easy.

It was. Apparently the sight of two agents, even if she wasn't sure what NCIS stood for, discombobulated

Mrs. Johnson first denied knowledge of her son, but the parade of ginger haired pictures along the entrance wall played out his life from kindergarten, cub scouts, and various graduations. Then she said she hadn't seen Eric in months "you know how young people are these days". But there was the torn Amtrak ticket still on the key table in the front hall.

Tony asked to use the facilities, which meant Tim had to keep her engaged so Tony could snoop around. He was shown into a comfortable living room with a light beige sofa and wing back chairs. There were lots of pillows in conflicting colors. Tim wondered if it was her attempt at updating the place, and figured that might be an interesting character trait for his new novel. Mrs. Johnson hovered around the arm chairs and walked the edges of the room. She straightened and rearranged a large collection of chipmunks figurines.

"When will Eric be back?" It could be that easy. Statistically some of their cases should be.

"He brought this one with him." She held out a Chip n Dale figurine. "They were always my favourite. He brings me a chipmunk every time he comes to visit."

"Is he visiting now?" Tim tried not to squirm once he realized just how many chipmunk knickknacks were staring at him from various tables and ledges around the living room.

"Oh no, he's off to Memphis. He said I shouldn't worry." Her hand covered her mouth and the her eyes suddenly sharpened. "Are you who I shouldn't be worried about?"

"We just have a few questions for him," Tim prevaricated. He wondered if he should press for more information when Tony wandered back into the living room.

"Thank you so much for your time, Mrs. Johnson." Tony gave the warm smile he hadn't to Agent Sweet. "We are so sorry that we had to disturb you this late in the evening."

Tim pushed himself out of the over-cushioned monstrosity of a sofa as Mrs. Johnson almost simpered at Tony's regard. It shouldn't bother him. It wasn't like Tony was making a play and it did help extract them from the situation. Tony had them both out the door in under two minutes.

 _After a review of the information learned from Mrs. Johnson, the agents strategized likely destinations for Eric Johnson in Memphis, Tennessee._

Tim slid into the passenger seat. Sleep would be a very good thing.

"Today's sports section was on his bed and I heard her slip with Memphis." Tony drew smoothly out into the street and started making turns with confidence. "I think it's only a few hours drive – but that was with my frat buddies. I'm figuring even with you driving, it will still be under five."

"Um, Tony, where are we going?" Driving to Memphis? Now?

Tony turned his head and let loose a gleeful grin. "Right now, Probie, we're going for Pappy's ribs. Justice can be done better on a full stomach."

"Did Agent Sweet mention that one?"

 

"N'ah, Gibbs said something before we left."

And that was only part of the weird Gibbs and Tony thing. Tim had been working under, and it was definitely under, Gibbs for almost seven years and no way would he ask for restaurant advice. And when had Gibbs and Tony had time to talk? His thoughts were diverted as a sweet vinegary smell crept into the car. Tony swung into a newly emptied parking spot and said, "We're here."

Tim weighed sleep versus food, but with the aroma basically embracing him he gave up the struggle.

They got a free table and ordered.

"So we'll need to head to Memphis right away. The Peabody is there."

"Peabody?" Really right away? Tim's eyes had gone beyond heavy. Even his cheeks felt like they were falling off his face and it wasn't in anticipation of messy ribs. He could fall asleep right here on the table.

Tony tipped back his chair, as usual defying any authority other than Gibbs, even gravity. "The Peabody, with the ducklings? Twice a day there's a guy whose job it is to escort the ducks across the busy street from the hotel to the river. It's a must see. And a must stay." The chair smacked down into its rightful position and Tony was suddenly leaning across the table. "Hey, we get in earlier enough we could grab a few hours sleep there."

"This Peabody? Fancy?"

"Not Trump extravagant, but it's no Motel Six either."

"Seeing how Vance scoured your last travel report." It was fun to watch Tony wince.

"I guess it is out of budget."

But now whenever Tim brought up Vance, Tony just shut down. Less fun.

Then the gleeful was back, "But nothing says we can't drop by. Maybe our Kimble likes ducks. He likes Red Birds."

"You are NOT doing the Fugitive speech." Tim's glare was interrupted by the arrival of bowls of coleslaw and sweet potato fries (Tony had insisted that counted as vegetables), and two platters of ribs. The sight of meat seemed to derail Tony as they both dug into their first meal in way too long. He'd gotten the original while Tony had insisted on trying the Holly's Hot sauce.

After several minutes dedicated to the ribs – Tim couldn't believe that Tony hadn't spilt a single drop of sauce while he felt like he'd gone bathing in it – conversations from other tables began to filter through his thoughts. Cardinals.

Right, they'd just had their opening game a few days ago. Tim hated when work caused him to lose track of what had once been a pivotal day of the year. Well, after draft and the World Series, but for him to forget Opening Day...

"Penny for them." Tony dug a fork into the slaw, dumping a pile of it amongst the bony ruins on his plate. "You were looking intense instead of exhausted."

"It's baseball season." Tim grabbed another rib. No reason to stop since he was already a mess.

"Yes," Tony drew out the word. "It's a lesser sport."

"Just I never used to miss stuff like this. And the buzz on the Cardinals is that their farm team has some great talent."

"Well our guy's a fan; he had several of their pennants on his wall. One was from last year" Tony's normally unperturbed facade suddenly wrinkled. Which was funny when he had a fork dripping slaw bits half way to his mouth.

"Farm team...like in Memphis?"

After sharing a look, Tim pulled out his phone and began to google the Red Birds' schedule. "They're playing tomorrow – hey it's magnet day."

"It' s nine thirty now – we can be finished and on the road by ten."

"Are you packing energy drinks? How are you still awake?" spilled out of Tim's mouth before he could self-censor. Then he gave Tony a better look, now that his own eyes were fully open. There were circles forming under the eyes that had a sheen to them. Even Tony's shirt looked limp.

"And this is when I pull rank and let you drive," Tony answered calmly. "We've paused for food, but we can't let him have too much of a head start – we just need to get there for game time."

Logic and seniority. Tim really couldn't argue even if part of him wanted to stamp his foot and say no fair. Instead he leaned back in his chair, glad they hadn't sat at one of the indoor picnic tables. This wasn't a battle he could win, so might as well accept it.

"Fine, but we're getting good seats tomorrow."

"We can get whatever kind of seat you like, McBatboy, but we'll be walking around looking for our target. Now hurry up, I've got my beauty sleep to attend to." He raised his hand for the check and quickly sorted that as Tim stared glumly at the remains of their meal. What he wouldn't give for one of Abby's Red Bulls, hold the vodka. At least Tony would let him have the radio on. Hopefully that would keep him awake.

 _The agents split the driving to Memphis, Tennessee and investigated some of the local hotels before heading to AutoPark._

"McGee, wake up."

Tim felt an elbow in his ribs, not too hard, but was it really necessary? He'd only just fallen asleep.

"Really you need to see this. I need to know you see it too."

The car had stopped and before opening his eyes, Tim heard the car door open and slam shut. He forced his eyes opened and looked around to see Tony on the other side of the road standing in front of a community sign. Why was this important?

Tim unbuckled his seat belt and went to investigate whatever had caught Tony's attention. It couldn't be about the case. He looked both ways before crossing the street. It was the light of an almost dawn – why hadn't Tony let him sleep? Tony was using his phone to take a picture of the sign. The sign which had Tim blink. Surely the Town Council wouldn't have let that name through? But after blinking again the words hadn't changed.

"So I'm not seeing things, right?" Tony walked past and took a picture from another angle.

"No, and…" Tim bit his bottom lip, but the writer in him loved puns. "I can't believe you woke me up for Morning Wood." He stepped back from the half-hearted swat Tony sent his way. It might be puerile, but he was glad Tony had wanted to share. "I'm thinking this isn't making it into the report."

"Imagine if we could though? Restraining Johnson at Morning Wood development?" He kept grinning as they headed back to the car. "I don't think Ziva would appreciate the brilliance of that."

They headed to the city center. As Tony said, there was time before the game, why not have breakfast at the Peabody? "Ducks, McGee, ducks!"

This was the Tony he liked. With their jobs it was easy to forget that there were fun things in the world. Tony never let that aspect slide.

 _Based on knowledge of the suspect's interest in baseball and the indicators at his home, the agents investigated AutoPark, home of the Cardinal's farm team, the Red Birds. After several innings, the suspect was located._

After a hotel breakfast and a view of the Peabody fountain, sans ducks as they wouldn't parade in until eleven, they headed towards the ball park. Accustomed to Major League prices, McGee tried not to giggle at the posted rates. He completely blamed the minimal sleep for the giggles.

"I'll pay." A quick look and he decided to skip the club level. As Tony said, they needed to walk around but in support of the Triple A sports team, Tim did buy the lower dug out tickets. A whole $19 bucks a pop. The fact that those were the seats he'd buy on his own and that Johnson was a fan just meant he was finally following his gut.

Tony was flipping through the program. "Did you know there's over two hundred types of food in this park?"

"How on earth can you be hungry? I think I'm still full from last night's ribs." Although Tim couldn't help notice that deep fried catfish was one of the items. Maybe Tony was on to something.

"Recon, McCranky, knowledge is useful. So baseball?"

"I got an A in high school for a model predicting the World Series wins." He'd been so proud of that project, even if it hadn't helped him on some small side bets the following year. It had been a talking point at his MIT interview.

Tony just shook his head. "Whatever, McGeeky, so remember what our guy looks like?"

And with that they were back on the job. The park wasn't that crowded so walking through the concourse was manageable. The weather was nice and people were dressed in everything from light jackets to tank tops. There were a large number in jerseys, both Redbirds and Cardinals. The fact he and Tony were in suits did set them apart, which also helped with their parade through the concourse. Tony had them pop up every couple of gates to scan the crowd.

Murphy's law meant that when they finally got close to the seats he'd bought, they ran into Johnson.

"We're here about Brantwell," Tony announced as he stepped to their perp's right.

"And Kranz," Tim added, until he noticed Tony's glare. "But mostly about Brantwell."

Eric didn't resist and they spent the next few innings, him in handcuffs, watching as the pitcher decimated the other team. In the sixth inning, both he and Tony got on their phones. Tony had said he was checking in with Gibbs, but he looked too animated for that. Tim was happy that his travel app found them a flight direct to DC. It left late enough that they might as well watch the whole game. And try those catfish nibs and a funnel cake.

Even given how tired he was, he didn't want to miss the Red Birds' pitcher, who was the clichéd poetry in motion. This was definitely an 'I was there' story he could tell for years.

 _We were able to obtain civilian transport and escorted the suspect back to the Navy Yard for interrogation and debriefing._

Kranz's pitching meant they got to the airport with time to spare. Tony ducked into one of the stores with just a be right back. However when he returned to where Tim and Eric were sitting, he held a key chain aloft. "That pitcher is going to put them on the map."

Tim just shook his head. "You took long enough, they've started pre-seating."

As per protocol, they were last on the plane, which meant waiting twenty minutes from that first announcement. He hated that their seats were in the center row with Johnson between them. As the plane started they were taxi-ing, Johnson mentioned the third baseman's errors over the last few games and Tim realized this would be a great flight.

The plane had reached cruising altitude, not that he'd really noticed. Talking with another fan who got the magic of baseball statistics was invigorating. They'd been doing some historical analysis when Tony cut in, "Really, you BOTH know in which game a minor league pitcher had his first no hitter? It's not like either of you ever played the game."

Tim shared a look with Johnson. "And which movie was the 1975 Oscar winner, and its director?"

"One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, Milos Forman, both got Oscars. It had a full sweep in fact," Tony rolled off without blinking. Then there was a metaphorical blink. "Fine." Tim grinned as Tony settled back into his aisle seat, and continued to scan the plane. "Geeks."

"Takes one to know one."

Johnson looked puzzled. "I thought Federal Agents would be more, um..."

"Boring?" Tony filled in."We leave that, and the poor fitting black suits, to the F.B.I."

It wasn't like Tim would disagree with that.

 _The suspect was able to provide the information needed to collaborate the evidence, see appendix c for the transcript of the interview. This case was then handed over to JAG._

Eric Johnson was a dream retrieval. He was polite, great to talk to, and couldn't wait to tell Gibbs everything he knew. Tim had barely blinked before Gibbs was demanding reports, but softened the blow with a promised two days off.

Tony was fooling around, holding his new key chain up too high for Ziva to reach. "It was great, this pitcher is going places."

"You found him looking at jars?" Ziva hadn't been travelling, but she still looked as tired as Tim felt.  
"Pitcher, as in—Wait, you're trying to mess with us, aren't you?" Tim again let the banter pass over him as he finished the report. Two days off.

"Hey Tony, what are you going to do on your days off?" Tim gave his report a final review and began to check the appendices.

"Sleep!"

"Well you can't do that until reports are in," said Gibbs as he entered the bull pen.

"Yes, Boss. Right away, Boss." Tony quickly retreated behind his desk. He talked a great game, but Tim had noticed that lately Tony was always the last to get his reports in.

The printer whirled and Ziva pulled on her coat. A quick final scan and Tim did the same. Whether writing novels or reports, only certain things ever made it to the final cut. Everything there was true, but it wasn't the full truth. As Tim straightened the pages, all he could think about was his bed. Hopefully, Sarah would be able to reschedule sibling night. After he caught up on way more than forty winks.


End file.
